Joint Ops
by airbolt
Summary: A Joint Operation with the Flying Squad. Bodie ain't 'appy!
1. Chapter 1

"Call that a Gun " sneered Bodie. He reached into the rucksack and lifted out a Heckler and Koch G3 Assault Rifle. He sighted the noticeboard and targeted the "Watch Out, There's a Thief about" Poster.

"This, my friend, is a proper gun….as opposed to that peashooter!"

The Flying Squad D.S was about to use some industrial language when his D.I walked in.

"Put it away, Son, this ain't El Alamein" the D.I growled " and I'm not a Kraut!"

The D.S put his Smith and Wesson 38 back into his shoulder holster. Doyle said to him sotto voce " Take no notice, mate. He's ex-Army. If it won't take a house out, he ain't interested". This made the D.S laugh. He was in his mid-thirties, thinning a bit on top but growing it long at the sides.

" Weren't you on the job at Cannon Street?" the D.S asked " What's it like with the Secret Squirrel Brigade?"

"I could tell you, but then I would 'ave to shoot you!" joked Doyle " No, I miss the lads but not the Desk Sergeant at Cannon Street!"

"Glass-Arse Chivers?" laughed the D.S " 'Ee took the golden back a year ago! I'm George, by the way. George Carter"

"Ray Doyle" the CI5 man replied " What's your Guv like?"

"You'll find out" said Carter, with a laugh.

" Oi, This isn't the W.I, ladies. Save the chit-chat. The Brass upstairs have seen fit to run this as a joint-operation, painful as it may be" the D.I said firmly.

"You're not wrong, mate" murmered Bodie. The D.I strode up to him and stuck his face about three inches from Bodie's.

"That's DETECTIVE-INSPECTOR or SIR….GET IT!" snarled the D.I." I'm D.I Jack Regan and I ain't had my lunch yet! Do not mess me about!"

"Yes…Sir" said Bodie, resentfully.

" Cowley could take lessons of him!" whispered Doyle.


	2. Chapter 2

The air was electric as Cowley walked into the briefing room. Bodie glared at Regan, who strode over to the nondescript balding figure shuffling in after Cowley.

" Do we have to work with the Thunder and Lightning Brigade, Sir" Regan moaned.

" If we want to keep our pensions, Jack" the balding man replied.

Cowley cleared his throat " D.C.I Haskins, Would you care to take the briefing?"

Haskins shuffled his papers and coughed. " Operation Arrow is a joint-operation involving the Flying Squad and CI5. The target is an arms-smuggling operation that threatens to flood our major cities with automatic weapons. The man we're after is a certain Milan Yukovic, a Belgrade hardman with lonks to the Yugoslav Government."

A slide of Yukovic was projected on the wall. Thickset, thinning hair and cold, slate-grey eyes. He looked bulletproof. Haskins pointed to some of the weapons recovered. UZIs, AK-47s, Armalites, G3s, even a .30 Cal mounted Machine Gun.

" If I might " said Cowley " There's a more obvious customer than criminal gangs. You all know who I mean! However, just at the moment they are experiencing a….cashflow problem. Yukovic is interested in money and there are criminals in the mainland who are only too willing to pay. So, that means it's not really a Special Branch op. CI5 need help on this one and, as I understand it, D.I Regan has managed to get a lead. If you could, please?"

" My Informer has contacts at Tilbury. One of them, name of James Randall, phones my snout, er , informer and gives him the heads up on a shipment of machine parts. Reckons he knows someone who'll fence them and he wanted a cut. Randall turns up in the Thames, with lots of holes in him! Thirty Cal holes!. Not what the local villains use!" finished Regan.

"Any leads on the fence?" asked Doyle.

"Nothing solid yet. We've put the word out but it's all gone quiet,for obvious reasons." replied Regan. He was itching for a fag." D.S Carter has a few names to lean on"

Carter self-conciously looked at his printout. The air was a bit rich in here. " Most of the faces we know are into cash, motors, electrical gear and tom. None of them has any form with shooters. So it could be a new face altogether.."

"Or someone's decided to step up to the Big League" ventured Doyle.

Cowley looked tense " The Home Office are keen to keep this out of the Red-tops. So we need to move fast before we get the Wild West in the East End"

Bodie and Doyle looked at each other. Was that Cowley attempting a joke? They looked around the room. No one was laughing.

Regan nodded at Carter. Soon as the Scots Guv'nor finished it was fry-up, fags and a double scotch. Not necessarily in that order,


	3. Chapter 3

Regan chewed his scotch egg thoughtfully and stared at the fogged up window of the Granada. He glanced across at his pudgy driver.

"Jelly, put the demister on. We might as well be in a Turkish Bath 'ere."

Jelly put the cranky demister on full. Carter sat in the back, chewing a bacon sarnie.

"So, what do you think of that lot? The funnies?" Regan aimed his remark at Carter " That big fella reckons he's Sergeant Fury"

"I dunno Guv. The other fella used to be on the strength. Struck me as kosher." Carter replied, wiping the window.

"If you say so. This whole thing could go completely pear-shaped and guess who'll end up in the proverbial!" humphed Regan.

"Is that the target?" Jelly interrupted.

"Too right" said Regan "Cut him off". Jelly floored the throttle and brought the Granada squealing to a halt in front of a very startled looking snout.

"Arthur, my old son. Anyone would think you were avoiding me!" Regan had a very firm grip on the man. Carter looked at him. Fat, balding and sweaty, Regan's snout was clearly not pleased to see the Bill. In fact, he looked scared enough to try something really stupid. Like running. After fifty yards, Regan caught him, spun him around and kneed him one in the cobblers.

"That's for making me run, Arthur!" wheezed Regan." Now, tell me a story."

"You don't get it do you?" croaked Arthur "Nuffin' you can do matches up to what'll 'appen if I grass!"

"Nick 'im, George" Regan was disgusted to have his bluff called. Plus, he now felt like honking and he was no nearer cracking this case. Which he wanted to do to stick it up Haskins and show the funnies what real policing was all about. After Arthur was handed over to plod, Carter walked over to Regan who was leaning against the back wall of a pub.

"You look a bit tom and dick, Guv" said Carter, offering him a Players.

"Cheers, Sergeant!" snarled Regan, taking the fag. He inhaled deeply and straightened up.

"When I can't scare the crap out of a toe-rag like Arthur, maybe I ought to take the pension. Come on, the first one's on me". Regan jerked his thumb at the Pub. Haskins would give him a handbagging later but right now he needed several pints down him.


	4. Chapter 4

Cowley looked at the expanding plume of cigar smoke. Behind was the austere figure of Sir Jeremy McCloud, ensconced in a fine leather high backed chair. Tea arrived. Sir Jeremy cleared his throat.

"George, you can appreciate that this is a matter of some delicacy" he said, adjusting his cufflinks.

" You can rely on my discretion, Sir Jeremy" said Cowley, thinking that sometimes the Guards Tie brigade lived in a pre-war era.

"Well" Sir Jeremy leaned forward " The whispers in the corridors indicate that there's a bit more coming and going than is strictly necessary." He paused. "You know how the Red Tops lap this sort of thing up. Our moral guardians!"

Cowley nodded. Sex scandals were only released to the papers when politically expedient.

" If it was one or two silly buggers playing away from home, then it could be sat upon. This seems to be quite a rash of impropriety, if you pardon the expression. A little epidemic of priapic behaviour. Not the sort of thing we want getting out to the great unwashed, eh?".said Sir Jeremy.

Although Sir Jeremy's words were inclusive, he inwardly winced at having to deal with the cloak and dagger brigade. Usually such poor upbringings, not a shred of class. Take George Cowley for instance. A nice tailor couldn't mask his upper-middle class upbringing. Probably went to a Grammar. More downstairs than upstairs.

" This impropriety, would it involve ...unusual tastes?" enquired Cowley. These really were good biscuits. He wished he could get invited to Blacks more often.

"Oh No, none of that sort of malarkey!" humphed Sir Jeremy "Straight bat stuff but unfortunately somewhat extra-curricular"

"Ah" replied Cowley. " These activities. Would they be of a ….professional nature?"

"Quite so" said Sir Jeremy " Although we are talking a very high class sort of girl, not some tarts from Soho. The point is that many of the usual agencies are somewhat shop-soiled in this matter and CI5 have a reputation for keeping mum. Can I rely on you to put the matter to bed, so to speak?"

Cowley indicated in the affirmative. He looked at the departing back of Sir Jeremy. There goes a man who wouldn't hesitate to hang him out to dry but wants a dirty laundry case handled discretely.

"As if I haven't got enough on my plate" thought Cowley.


	5. Chapter 5

Carter whistled. "I would" as the leggy dancer squeezed past him in the dingy corridor.

"Put a knot in it, George" sighed Regan as he rapped on the door marked "Manager" before marching in to a poorly lit office. On the wall were a number of "artistic" prints which the Obscene Publications Squad might be interested in. A box of flyers for the Pink Pussycat Gentlemen's Club was stacked on a case of Johnny Walker.

Benny Stavridis pullled himself up to his full height of four foot eleven and extended a clammy hand . Regan ignored it.

" Vice might shake hands but we're the Sweeney and we put greasy pimps like you in the Scrubs!" he snarled. His guts were terrible after the session yesterday and the bollocking from Haskins. "Now that your establishment has attracted our attention you might find yourself looking at a three stretch for immoral earnings. Of course, tell us an entertaining story and we might let you crawl back under a rock!"

Benny was visibly shaken. He thought that he had the filth onside. Now this lot turn up yelling the odds.

" Word has reached me that you lost one of your girls recently and stood still for it. Not like you, is it?" said Regan, leaning on the desk.

"Oh, Tania you mean. This big geezer turns up one night and takes a shine to her. He looks like a right bruiser like. Short hair, like the army. Posh clothes though. Anyway, I get a call from Tanya telling me that she's working for this geezer now. She even said that she was getting a classier punter. I mean, classier than this?" he shrugged.

" Hard to believe" said Regan."You let her go then? Just like that"

"Oh no, I mean I'm a caring employer" Benny reached for a cracked mug and took a slug. " I put the word out for info on the big fella. Found out the Boozer he uses up west and send Lewisham Tony and some of his lads to have a word"

Lewisham Tony was a minor legend in Streatham. A record of ABH,GBH and attempted murder on top of a brutally sadistic nature. He half killed a screw in the Scrubs and got another four years on top of his stretch.

"Tony Hampton, Guv. Intensive care at Lewisham General. Uniform found him done over. Said that 'ee looked like a lorry 'it 'im." Interrupted Carter.

"Yeah. That's the point that I decided to let the geezer keep her. If he puts Tony in Hospital I'm not going to ask him out" Benny was sweating. Regan desparately needed fresh air.

Jelly was munching a Curly-Wurly in the Granada.

"Mister Haskins wants you, Guv" he said through a mouthful of chocolate.

"Marvellous" growled Regan.


	6. Chapter 6

The Royal Oak was heaving. The punters were as well-oiled as the stripper. Her enthusiastic writhing was almost visible through the fug of cigarette smoke. Bodie leaned against the bar and gave her an appreciative look. She had her right ankle level with her right ear.

" I wish I could do that!" leered Bodie

"Buy her a shandy and she might let you" laughed Doyle. He nursed a Carlsberg but was more interested in the clientele. More records in this boozer than H.M.V. Just one interested him. The stripper had finished her act and was walking around the room, stark naked, with a pint pot full of coins. Bodie smiled at her.

"'Ello 'andsome." She smiled back " 'Aven't see you 'ere before"

" I don't get out much" he laughed, then put a pound note in the pot.

"''Andsome and generous" she giggled and went on with her collection. Bodie watched her bottom as she walked away.

" I bet that Regan wishes he got this job" said Bodie, with a grin " He gets the info on the boozer then someone robs a Securicor Van in Hackney and he gets put onto that. Hard cheese, mate!"

" That's the fella" interrupted Doyle. The target was a beefy unit alright. Fitted the description Regan had got from the club owner. His number one crop didn't fit with the stylish soft leather jacket. His neck muscles were bulging as he appeared to be arguing with the stripper. He threw a handful of copper coins at her and stormed to the exit. She called him something unrepeatable. Without fuss, Bodie and Doyle made their way out to the Capri.

Doyle called for a reg check on the silver BMW 7 that the target was driving. It came back to a Theo Hapgood, who hadn't got a record but was listed as "Security" in occupation.

"Looks like one of yours" said Doyle "Fiver says he's ex-army"

"Or mercenary" Bodie was thoughtful. He made a note to buy Tony Hannigan a drink. He knew the merc scene and was on his uppers. The Beamer pulled up at a mews cottage in Primrose Hill.

"This is all wrong for him. He's more Watney's than Moet" mused Doyle. Bodie called in the address. It came back to a Campbeltown Holdings.

"Four Five and Three Seven, you're recalled when Eight Five takes over at your location" the R/T crackled.

" His Master's Voice" joked Bodie.


	7. Chapter 7

Michael Eckley kissed his wife goodbye as he usually did. He headed for the Tube station at Stanmore and brought the Times as he usually did. He arrived at his office building in Cheapside and took the lift to the fifteenth floor. There he busied himself until lunchtime, when he left in a Taxi for a dentist's appointment. The taxi took him to a small rented flat in Pimlico. He rang the bell marked "Michael Archer" and was buzzed in.

John Savage said goodbye to his mother and left the flat. He worried that she was going to need a home soon. It didn't bear thinking about. Not on a Postman's wages.

Alan Perrin donned his helmet and swung the heavy door shut. The armoured door of the Securicor Van made a meaty clunk. He put his visor down and told the driver to set off for the afternoon pickup. The National Anglian Bank in Hackney.

Tania Mueller looked at her watch. Soon the man who lay sleeping next to her would wake and go back to his wife. Outside it was beginning to rain.

It was still raining when the Flying Squad Granada arrived at the shout.

"It's carnage, Guv. Like the Alamo!" said Carter. He wasn't far wrong. Middleton Street looked more like a war zone than the borough of Hackney. A Securicor Van was lying on it's side and on fire. A Transit was also well ablaze in front of it. A Cortina was wrapped around a post box. Uniform were cordoning off the area and ambulancemen were attending to several bodies.

Regan looked for the senior uniform. He collared the Sergeant from the local nick.

" We get the call about shooting in Middleton Street but it was all over when the first car arrived. The Securicor Van was on fire and the two guards..well, you can see." The Sergeant pointed at the bodies. ." In the course of the getaway, the villains drove right over a postie." There was another body being examined by the M.E. It looked like a bundle of rags." The witnesses said that the villains were shooting indiscriminately. It's a wonder no one else was hit"

Regan thanked the sergeant and took a long breath. He looked at the Securicor Van, now slowly cooling after the fire Brigade had hosed it down. One side of it had a huge rent in it, like a rose petal.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking, George?" he asked.

" It looks like a Tank 'it it" replied Carter.

Bodie looked at the pictures about an hour later at the debrief.

" Judging by this and the fragments your S.C.O picked up I would guess it was a Milan Anti-Tank Missile" he said " Supposedly only used by the regular armies but they have gone astray in the past"

" Anti-Tank missiles?" scowled Regan " What is this, a war?"

" It's a war alright" said Cowley " and right now, we're losing!"


	8. Chapter 8

The front door was open. Inside, the smells of damp and cat wee competed. Bodie wrinkled his nose as he made his way up the stairs. The carpet was old and suspiciously clingy. He found the door and knocked. A balding, shrunken man answered the door in pyjama bottoms and vest.

"King?" he coughed "Is that you?"

"Yeah, it's me, Hunter" said Bodie quietly.

George "Hunter" Hannigan looked at Bodie glassily and invited him in. Bodie looked around. A man living on his own could go downhill fast. There was a two ring portable stove in one corner and an ancient fridge in another, Threadbare carpet and a battered sofa made up the rest of the furniture. Takeaway cartons everywhere there wasn't an old beercan. The room smelled of men's underpants.

"Long time, King. I hear you work for the spooks now." Hannigan said as he shuffled to the fridge. He produced a couple of cans of Special Brew. There was nothing else in the fridge.

" Fraid it's the maids's day off" he rasped as he handed Bodie a can " Anyway, you aint here for the decorations are you?"

He retained a little of the old nous. At the top of his game, Hannigan had been one of the best point men in the Regiment. Then a merc. Now this.

"I'm after a name, Hunter" asked Bodie " I know you have some contacts ". He was wondering if this was his future if he stuffed up.

" King Bodie " laughed Hannigan " William Arthur Philip Bodie. Hard as nails and a real ladies man. I used to envy you y'know. All those birds, they seemed to go for you"

This was going nowhere. Bodie produced five twenty pound notes and put them on the table. At first, Hannigan looked offended but his eyes gave him away.

"What's he look like?" Hannigan asked morosely.

" White, Six Two, Bodybuilder type, skinhead and my guess is he is handy with his fists around women. He's got some fancy pad and nice schmutter. Likes to drink at the Royal Oak. Drives around in a car owned by Theo Hapgood, about whom we know very little." said Bodie, avoiding the beer.

Hannigan pocketed the money. " I 'aint certain but it might be Taff Williams. Tony Williams, that is. Not even welsh. After your time. Liked heavy weapons but caused too much collateral" he winked.

" Word is he's muscle for hire to an outfit up west"

Bodie got up to leave. Hannigan was startiing on another can and looked forlorn.

" You remember that time when we put the laxatives in the M.O's canteen?" he said weakly.

"Sure" said Bodie " Look I'll give you a call. We'll have a drink".

With that lie, he left.

.


	9. Chapter 9

Michael Eckley liked the finer things in life. Things that he couldn't afford on a Civil Servant's pay packet. Like the attention of the girl who was slowly undressing in front of him. He thought he caught a tang of oranges from her perfume. For a moment he was a child again on a family holiday to Minorca. The only one he could remember. After that he learned that he had to be "careful" with money. His father had become obsessed with saving, with buying the cheapest cuts of meat and supermarket cola instead of the real sort. Fish Fingers, Rissoles and a satsuma on occasion.

" Have you ever read Proust?" he asked the girl.

" My Dad never had a book in the house" she replied " You got ripped to shreds round our way if you were a teacher's pet"

" He used to write about memory being triggered by the senses. Like smell" he gazed up at her. She really was gorgeous, unlike his wife.

" Hmm, Is he as good as Jackie Collins?" she asked , getting closer.

" Different market" he sighed.

Much later he was preparing to leave when the phone rang. He knew who it was.

" I hope you enjoyed yourself because it's time for some work". The voice on the other end was low and convincing " You know what to look for. Remember, no cock ups and your little girlfriend will keep her appointments. Plus you'll keep what you value, mate!"

Eckley put the phone down. He wanted to vomit. In the throes of passion he forgot that there was reverse side to the coin. Hurriedly he put on his coat and headed for the door.


	10. Chapter 10

"Is he strictly necessary, Guv?" Carter jerked his thumb at the grubby, sweating man in the back seat. To be fair, Benny Stavridis was pushing out a rancid mix of B.O, sweaty socks and cheap cologne. Oblivious to the insult, Benny studiously re-arranged his wedding tackle.

" 'Ee may have dropped out the Rank Charm School but we need 'im to positively I.D Tony Williams as the man who stole his Tom" growled Regan

" Escort Girl, Mr Regan!" piped up Benny, tearing himself away from the pocket billiards.

." A tom's a tom. Have you even seen a Bath?". He cracked the window on the Granada. They were parked at the end of Enfield Gardens observing the address that Williams had been tailed to. Most of the mews cottages were whitewashed and there were cobblestones instead of tarmac.A silver BMW pulled up. Williams was driving and there appeared to be a female passenger. Williams got out the car and went straight to the front door.

" He didn't open the door for his girlfriend. Chivalry is really on the way out!" scoffed Regan. The girl got out. She was all legs, fake fur and long auburn hair. There was a sharp intake of breath in the car.

" I would too " said Regan, pre-empting Carter." So, is that the geezer, Benny?". There was the sound of the rear door opening and the sight of the pudgy club owner running towards the BMW.

" What's that lunatic up to?" yelled Regan as he jerked open his door. Carter was ahead of him, running after Benny.

" Tania! Tania! " shouted Benny as he gulped air." It's me, love!"

Williams swivelled and a look of fear fixed on his face. He wasn't sure about the fat guy but the two behind him were law. He wasn't going inside. Never. He drew a Beretta 92F and crouched behind the rear of the BMW. Tania screamed and ran away from the car.

" You slag, you grassed me up!" shouted Tony and put two shots in her retreating back. She staggered and fell to the cobblestones. Benny sank to his knees, his head in his hands.

Regan and Carter crouched behind a Jensen Interceptor, their 38s ready.

"ARMED POLICE!" shouted Regan " Throw the Gun away, Williams. You're bang to rights!"

Three shots from Williams hit the Jensen.

" I give the word, cover me, George!" said Regan as he set up for a flanking run. " NOW!"

Carter loosed off four shots, keeping Williams pinned behind the BMW. Regan was four cars down but couldn't get an angle on Williams. He mouthed something unprintable. Williams took another three rapid shots in Carter's direction , showering him in glass. Regan fired at the BMW to keep Williams' head down.

Benny had crawled to Tania's inert body and was whispering into her ear. A peculiar look came into his eyes and for the first time in his life a streak of steel entered his soul. He reached for the .22 strapped to his ankle with parcel tape. He crouched and ran towards Williams. Regan used the diversion to cross the cobblestones. Carter reloaded.

"Get up. You murdering scum. Go on, Williams, be a man for once" taunted Benny. He stood and fired all six rounds at Williams , missing with all six. The one in return caught Benny squarely and spun him around. He hit the cobblestones with a sigh.

Regan was now two yards from Williams and had the drop on him.

" It's all over, Sunshine! " growled Regan. Carter started to run towards Williams covering him with his 38.

" Top of the World, Ma!" grinned Williams and put the gun to his temple. Click. Click. Nothing.

Regan had a grimace on his face " That's a Beretta, Toerag, and you've had your nine!".


	11. Chapter 11

"She only has a few minutes. I've sent for a priest but he's caught in traffic…" . He was trained to not get emotional but some of the strain showed on Doctor Monk's face.

" I understand" said Cowley. It wasn't as if he hadn't seen more than enough himself. He remembered holding a corporal in Malaya as he cried for his mother. He saw that look on the face of the girl in the hospital bed. Tania Mueller. Call girl. Somebody's daughter. He looked at the file. Grandfather was a paratrooper captured at Cassino. Father handy with his fists and mother an alcoholic. Tania found comfort elsewhere.

Regan interrupted his thoughts. " In his own way, Benny fell in love with her. Funny that"

"Not funny for her" said Cowley. He looked across at Doyle and beckoned him over.

"See what you can find out" he said. Doyle moved to the bed. Sometimes this job made him disgusted with himself . He held the girl's hand and she looked at him.

" I'm so scared " she rasped. Doyle gripped her hand and leaned in so that his face was close to hers.

" I'm here " he said quietly.

" It hurts. Make it stop" her grip tightened on Doyle's hand. The nurse indicated silently to Cowley. Any more morphine would have no effect.

" Mike? Is that you…..I never meant to hurt you….never…he made me " her eyes focussed past Doyle.

" Who made you? " said Doyle.

" Keep you sweet he said….Theo said………..". The light went out of her eyes. Her grip loosened on Doyle's hand..

" Did you hear that, Sir " he looked at Cowley." I need to get some fresh air". Bodie made to follow him out of the room.

"Leave him, Son" said Regan..


	12. Chapter 12

The codger in the corner was fumbling with a roll-up. The ready-rubbed kept squeezing out of the rizla paper. A spotty kid went up to the fag machine and got a packet of No.6. The codger looked envious.

" You realise that when started that roll-up, Clement Attlee was still Prime Minister! " joked Regan.

" I reckon they were still knocking out Capstans when he started !" Carter joined in

" These days, all people seem to want is a good shag!" finished Bodie. The four men roared with laughter, eased into their mirth by a few good rounds. There were things to forget. The Dog and Goose was heaving and a haze of fag smoke permeated everywhere. Regan and Carter lit up, Bodie and Doyle abstained.

" So, you come into the spooks straight from the army then?" Regan asked Bodie. Regan's face was redder than normal thanks to the alcohol. He wanted to see if the big feller got needled easy.

" Something like that " Bodie replied. He wasn't going to fall into the policeman's trap. Anyway, he was starting to like the old copper.

" He could tell you more but then he would have to kill you!" interjected Doyle. He had stayed off the chasers, preferring an uninterrupted session on the Carlsberg. For some reason Bodie had him down as a C.A.M.R.A member, confusing his healthy eating with a liking for beer with bits in. Anyway, you didn't spend years on the force without being able to pack it away.

" I bet you saw some right funny stuff out there. I've got a mate with the regulars out in Germany. Some of the stories…." Carter was flagging a little.

" You see a lot. You forget most of it " Bodie was miles away for a moment. There was a lot he couldn't forget, though he had tried.

" I 'ate guns " Regan was well trollied. " We've gotta have 'em cos the toerags 'ave 'em. Used to be old revolvers from the army, then sawn-offs. One day the blaggers will have machine guns. Then we'll be walking around with bulletproof vests. They weigh a ton"

" They don't stop bullets anyway. Just slow 'em down " advised Bodie, slightly altering the truth to get a reaction.

" Terrific!" spluttered Carter " I'm so 'appy to know that. I reckon the Guv'nors right though. Too many shooters out there. When we go out against a tooled-up firm, I'm bricking it sometimes!"

" Too right" agreed Regan " My 'arris gets a bit squeaky on a blag !" There was loud laughter at this. As the night wore on the four men found that forgetting was less of a problem. Tomorrow's roll call was a hundred miles away and there were tales to be told. At chucking out time, Regan looked at the codger who continued his war with the roll-up.

" Keep at it, Son" advised Regan.


	13. Chapter 13

Regan had a look of weariness about him, not helped by a massive hangover. He leaned against the wall of the corridor outside the interrogation room and lit a fag, Carter looked at him and silently cadged one off the Guv. Regan merely grunted.

"' Ee's a tough customer, that one " Regan acknowledged " Probably trained by the army to resist interrogation"

" 'ow about a good kicking?" asked Carter. The prisoner was scum in his books, shooting a woman in the back. That meant that the rules got broken. He was more than willing to give Williams a right going-over.

" It wouldn't work" said Bodie, who had been watching from the observation room " The D.I is right. Williams is ex-S.A.S. He can take whatever you have in mind. Not that I blame you. I feel like working the sod over myself. We can't take him on head on but we might be able to outflank him. I'm waiting for some intel from the F.O"

Cowley arrived about an hour later with a thin dossier marked " Top Secret".He shepherded the four men inside the observation room.

"This is to go no further than this room, gentlemen" he said, with a firm tone that left no room for misinterpretation " I had to pull in a lot of favours to get hold of this. It seems that our government was involved in a secret mission to the Republic of El Qalif. Let's just say that the sudden demise of the "Revered One" was not a " tragic accident mourned by his beloved people". It appears that our Mr Williams was team leader on the mission. This mission, naturally , never took place!"

" I see " Regan's eyes narrowed " Now, I'm just a thick headed copper who nicks blaggers for a living. I'm willing to take a punt that there are people in El Qalif who would like a nice chat with our prisoner"

" We have no extradition treaty with El Qalif though" said Doyle

" He doesn't know that , does he?" grinned Bodie.

" I'm going to enjoy this " said Regan.


	14. Chapter 14

Regan heard a ringing his ears. His eyes were shut and his head hurt. There was something wet on his face. He tried to open his eyes and was rewarded with a hammerblow. Now some idiot was letting off firecrackers. He opened his eyes again , slowly. He couldn't move his head but could just about see Carter. He was the idiot letting off firecrackers. Regan tried to tell him to shut it but he couldn't talk. Maybe he should have a bit of a kip. If anyone could kip with all this noise.

" Got the ****!" shouted Carter above the alarms.

" Keep a lookout, son, there'll be more! " replied Cowley tersely. He was crouched behind an overturned filing cabinet .and Carter was lying on the floor. Cowley had five rounds of 9mm. Carter had about three left. Cowley hoped Bodie and Doyle would make it back in time. He looked at the prostrate figure of Regan. Regan looked deathly pale and his face was covered in blood. The explosion had knocked everyone off their feet but Regan had taken the full force of it.

Cowley rewound the events in his mind. Only four minutes ago they had been looking forward to turning Williams over with the threat of deportation to El Qalif. Regan had told the copper inside the interrogation room to make himself scarce. Just as he was about to enter the interrogation room the whole building seemed to shake.

" BOMB! " shouted Cowley above the alarms. A falling ceiling beam had knocked Regan to the floor. Then there was a second explosion.

" That one was an Rocket! " said Bodie tersely . Doyle checked the CCTV feed. The lobby of Cannon Street Police Station was shown, wreathed in smoke and fire. The Security Doors were peeled away from their hinges. Masked figures were coming in with automatic weapons. Anyone lucky enough to survive the explosions was targeted by the armed men.

" We're next!" shouted Bodie. " We're too light! Ray, you worked here. Where's the heavy stuff!"

"Next floor up, in a secure locker!" replied Doyle. Cowley tried the radio. Jammed. He picked up the phone – no call signal..Someone outside would call the police about the explosions. This would alert the SO19 Tactical Unit and the CI5 Rapid Response team. Fifteen minutes, with luck, and reinforcements would arrive.

" The objective is laughing boy so Carter and me will barricade ourselves in and hold out. Just make sure you get the heavy artillery!" said Cowley. Bodie and Doyle crouched and made for the landing. Cowley could hear the crack of automatic fire and 9mm replies. Cowley and Carter dragged Regan into the interrogation room. Williams was frantic.

"I'll tell you the lot..Just keep me alive!".

"A real hero" Cowley was contempt itself.

Carter was in the process of putting the desk in front of the door when a masked figure shouldered down the door of the outer office. Carter shot him in the chest then flung himself to the floor as a fusillade of automatic fire cut through the outer door.

" I've got two left!" Carter said with a fixed expression. Cowley was quiet. Where were Bodie and Doyle?


	15. Chapter 15

Bodie reached for the battery. It was going to be useless after a soaking in the river. He felt for the battery in the fetid water and was straightening up when the first rounds sliced in. Without a word the column scattered. Bodie found the only cover available, the body of one of his squad taken out by the sniper. He scoured the tree line through the night scope, Above the jungle stench he could smell something sugary. Like Coca-Cola?

"COVER!" yelled Doyle, his face inches from Bodie's . Bodie instinctively rolled to the cover afforded by a bullet-hosed coke machine, now leaking it's contents. Bodie forced hmself back to the now. His head ached terribly but he was back in the game.

On the floor was the cause of Bodie's headache. Wearing Camo fatigues and a Balaclava and lying quite inert on the carpet tiles. Blood mixed with Coke. Doyle had caught him with a full clip from a MAC 10 as he was trying to do the same to Bodie.

It had been only two minutes since they had reached the Gun Locker. Bodie nabbed a G3 and some grenades while Doyle grabbed a pair of MAC 10s. These "off-the-book" lockers were only accessible by code pad to CI5 and certain other "agencies" .

"Lets earn our pay!" said Bodie as they headed for the stairs.


	16. Chapter 16

All his life Mario Vidic had wanted to inflict pain. He started with insects and rodents then graduated to his fellow children. At 12 years old he scarred a child with a razor, resulting in his removal to a Corrective Institute near Beograd. He found new ways to inflict pain. Turfed out at 16 he walked to the recruiting office of the Army. For a while he settled to life in the army until a " friendly fire" incident left 5 members of his platoon dead. He was saved from a lynching if only to ensure that the rope was part of a Court-Martial.

On the day of his execution, he was taken to the Prison Gates and put in an unmarked Van. It took him to an industrial estate in Beograd. There he was introduced to his handler, known only as "Xerxes". He made it clear that his life was subject to the whims of his operators. They needn't have worried. Mario enjoyed the missions and enjoyed the looks of fear on the faces of his victims. He asked no questions.

He had been paged to get to the airport at all costs. His flight to Heathrow was uneventful and he was taken by a white Transit Van to an industrial estate in Epping. There he met with the other mercenaries on this project. The Briefing was precise. Forced entry to a Police Station to eliminate a target. The police would not be armed.

Now he found himself almost within reach of the target. The resistance had been derisory so far, a few handguns. Mario surveyed the outer office, seeing the structural damage caused by the explosives. A dead plainclothes lay on the floor , his face covered in blood. The target was in the inner office. Plastex took care of the doorframe. He heard screams as the door flew inwards. He would have cleared the office with a LAWS in normal circumstances but orders were to confirm the kill. So he lobbed the Tear Gas inside. He made a tactical entrance to the office. Three men inside, one looked dead. The target was saying something in english. Mario looked at the plainclothes men, lyng on the floor. One of them was an old man who must have been in tremendous pain. Unlike the target his eyes burned with defiance. Him last , thought Mario , wanting to enjoy the pain. There was another man, fair haired and younger. He was unconscious . That's no fun, thought Mario. He pointed his UZI at the head of George Carter.


	17. Chapter 17

"It's a fatal" said the fireman, any trace of emotion in his voice washed out from twenty years of seeing this sort of thing. The occupants of the overturned Opel Kadett were dead. Three men . White. A seatbelt might have saved them but then again driving on the right side of the road would have been better. The fireman rolled his eyes. Foreigners! He turned as the sirens of a police car entered the mews. The Escort rolled to a stop and a couple of uniforms got out.

" Three fatals in one car and the other driver's gone to A and E" intoned the fireman. The taller of the cops nodded and looked at the car. The firemen were taking out the first body when a metallic object fell from the dead man's coat.

" **** me, it's a shooter!" yelled the paramedic, nearly dropping the body. The cops reacted quickly and searched the bodies and the car. Quite a haul. A grand total of 5 Beretta 92's, 2 HK G3's and four grenades for good measure. SO19 were on the scene to collect the booty.

At the end of the mews a balding middle-aged man walked up to the crime tape and asked if he could get through to Woolwich Villas. He was told to go round . He moved off, mumbling.

" Maybe he's on a promise" smirked the copper to his mate and they both laughed.


	18. Chapter 18

The Flying Squad of the Metropolitan Police are not normally armed. Guns are issued on specific "jobs" only with the signature of a senior officer. The regulation issue for the Flying Squad is a Smith and Wesson 38. They are fine at stopping your average blagger but are ineffective against a Kevlar vest . Against a head, they do just fine.

Mario Vidic looked puzzled for a second, then fell forward. His trigger finger obeyed the last order received and emptied the clip of the UZI. Luckily for George Carter, the UZI was now pointed at the floor to the right of his head. He would be deaf in that ear for a few days.

Cowley looked puzzled, then managed to turn his head. Regan had made the incredible shot with a 38, balanced on one elbow amid the rubble of the outer office. The effort was etched on his face and he passed out again. Suddenly the buzzsaw rattle of a G3 sounded outside the office, followed by silence.

"AMBER!" shouted Bodie

"GREEN!" replied Cowley, giving the "all clear, not a hostage" signal. Bodie and Doyle entered the outer office. Cowley couldn't move. He had caught a bullet in the leg. The same leg where he had his old wound. He wasn't a very happy camper.

"Bodie, meet the reaction team or SO19 . Doyle , get on a working phone and get an ambulance for these two!" he shouted, with the edge of pain in his voice.

"You need an ambulance as well, Sir!" said Doyle, putting his MAC10's on the floor and heading for the exit.

"This is just a love bite. Get on with it!" he yelled. Bodie and Doyle left quickly.

Cowley craned his neck to see where Williams was. He was curled up in a ball and moaning at the back of the office.

"Now then, Laddie" Cowley growled " My leg hurts like buggery and I'm tired of playing by the rules after this. So , how about a song for me, Laddie?".

Williams sang him an opera.


	19. Chapter 19

Michael Eckley trudged up the stairs. He was tired. Having to make a detour around that accident hadn't helped at all. He reached the flat and tried to shut out the tiredness. Tania would be waiting inside. Sweet smelling Tania. His reward for the risks that he took at work. Like two days ago, rewriting the Import Licence for the _Allura Provenza _out of Piraeus. The containers offloaded at Tilbury now contained "Industrial Parts" , at least on paper. If he was caught it would be his job and, maybe, jail.

His energy returned as he thought of Tania. She was worth the risk. He even stopped resenting the long diversion that he had been forced to make. Those Coppers on the tape had muttered something behind his back. He could care less now. As he entered the living room he threw his suitcase to the floor and collapsed on the sofa. After a minute or so, he realised something was missing. Tania's perfume. He looked for her but the flat was empty. Maybe she had been held up, like he had. Even so, he was upset and poured himself a Vodka and Tonic. He switched on the telly. Racing from Kempton or Macrame Lessons. Almost immediately he dozed off.

He woke with a startled yell. It was starting to get dark outside. He had been asleep for four hours. He heard footsteps coming up the stairs. It must be Tania. Very late but who cares! There was a knocking, very harsh. Odd, she had a key. His clarity was over-ridden by his instincts.

He let his trousers drop and stepped out of them. He walked to the door , paunch wobbling. "Forgot your key, Love? Never mind, when you get in I've got something big and hard for you!" he said, opening the door.

He came face to face with the muzzle of a 38. It was wielded by a plain clothes copper from the Flying Squad. The trace of a grin spread across his face." Sorry to disappoint you, pal, but mine's bigger than yours! You're nicked, Mate!"


	20. Chapter 20

Cowley was immersed in the report, occasionally grimacing as his leg ached. He was in a fractious mood. Bodie and Doyle sat uncomfortably, knowing that unrequested comment would get a flamethrower look.

"You two are very quiet" he growled " Enlighten me on progress."

"We got everyone that evaded the clean-up. The rest will probably be keeping the River Police busy for a while." ventured Bodie. The air in Cowley's office was crackling with tension and he veered away from an off-colour remark he would normally have made.

"That Customs and Excise fella the Flying Squad grabbed is counting his blessings" Doyle added.

"Michael Eckley?" asked Cowley

"That's correct, Sir. Luckily for him the Clean-Up crew on his job were probably flown in at the last minute. They managed to collide with another car while on the wrong side of the road. They were all tooled up for the job" continued Doyle

"Ironically enough he was waiting for Tania Mueller" said Bodie. There was a collective moment of silence as the memory of her traumatic demise returned.

"Aye. Anyway, with what Williams gave us we rolled up the Arms end of the Op. That left the Escort Girls operation. It would appear that a number of people in high places will be spending more time with their family!" grimaced Cowley " Not that the papers will get hold of the real reason. I have to say that it puts us quids in with Whitehall"

There was a significant pause. Bodie and Doyle looked at each other. Then Cowley pushed his chair back a little.

"Regarding the incident at Cannon Street. You did well" he said _sotto voce_. " That will be all"

He returned to reading the Report. Bodie and Doyle got up to leave, staggered by praise from the Boss.

"Did I say Well?" said Cowley, not looking up " I meant _quite_ well. So you can take that grin off your face, Bodie!"

Normal Service had been resumed.


	21. Chapter 21

There were loud ironic cheers from the Squad Room as Regan wheeled himself in. Someone, probably Jelly whistled the theme from "Ironside".

"Alright, Leave it out, you lot should be on "The Comedians"" growled Regan. There were a few more ribald comments. Carter looked up and waved his arm to show off the plaster cast.

"This is a surprise, Guv'nor. Word was you were on long-term sick" said Carter.

" I was going loopy, George. Rattling round me flat like a fart in a hurricane. Plus I missed your smiling mush!" he laughed " I see your love life is up the swanee!". Regan was looking at the cast on Carter's right arm.

" Far from it, Guv'nor. You should see what some of the nurses put on the cast" Carter smiled, then looked thoughtful " They told me you killed the bloke that had the gun on me. I owe you big time"

Regan coughed with embarrassment then hurriedly said " Too ****ing right you owe me. I intend to collect….in Whiskey. 'Ow about starting to pay off your debt right now. I expect your arm is playing up" he winked.

"You know what, it is starting to play up" laughed Carter. Later on , in the Flag and Anchor, the two men caught up on the last few weeks and quite a few chasers.

" I wonder what Sergeant Rock and his mate are up to right now" mused Regan, nursing his tumbler "Probably some glamorous spying job in a tux with a bird on each arm"

Carter looked thoughtful "'Ow fit are the birds?"

Regan laughed and downed his Whiskey " You would!"


	22. Chapter 22

Inside the Trannie, the windows were misting up. The rear door came flying open and Bodie peered in, bearing a polystyrene tray. He was soaked to the skin. The inside of the van was full of monitoring equipment. Doyle had his headphones around his neck and had the audio on speaker.

"They ran out of falafel so I got you a battered sausage" grinned Bodie, peeling off his coat.

" You know where you can put your battered sausage!" replied Doyle." Target is having a kip. I'm going for a jimmy. Mind the shop, will you?" With that he hunched against the rain and sprinted to a nearby alley. He nearly tripped over a very lanquid pigeon, who was munching on a Ginsters. On his return , Bodie chortled and said " You always did have problems with birds!". He got a silent two fingers.

Outside the van the rain was horizontal and the Finchley Road was full of puddles. A rather wan looking Alsatian limped along and cocked it's leg against the van. The noise made Doyle roll his eyes. Bodie finished off the fat-filled meal, peered into the rain through the misted windows and observed

"This is the life!"

*************************************************************

_Author's Note_

_Finally got to the end of the tale! Hope you enjoyed it! I'm off for a kip! :)_


End file.
